[pct-l] Cabazon

[Diane at Santa Barbara Hikes dot com]

On Feb 27, 2009, at 10:36 PM, pct-l-request at backcountry.net wrote:
>
> While on the subject of resupply I'm wondering about the town of  
> Cabozon. I've found little info on Cabozon and most of that on the  
> neg. side. Can anyone relate a Cabozon story for those of us on the  
> fence?
>
> jason

Sorry to bombard the list with all my boring stories. Here's my  
Cabazon story.

I sent a box to Cabazon. I put my guidebook section in the box so I  
had to stop no matter what.

I had been wearing waterproof shoes so far. I had heard there is an  
outlet mall in Cabazon and I couldn't wait to get rid of these awful  
shoes. Believe me, waterproof shoes in the desert stink.

So, I emerge from the I10 tunnel on to a road. I can see the Morongo  
Indian Casino. I decide I want to stay there because it'll be most  
likely to have Internet service. I start walking down the road.

I get to the end of the road. There is a sign saying No Trespassing  
Indian Reservation Boundary. I look to the left and the road dead- 
ends at the Interstate. I look to the right and the road winds into  
to mountains. How the heck do I get to the casino?

I decide to call the casino and see if they can pick me up. They  
can't. I ask them to connect me to a cab company. They do. It's a fly- 
by-night kind of cab company. I try in vain to tell them where I am  
and they can't seem to figure it out. I wait and wait and nobody  
shows up. So I decide to walk back to the PCT which is my home now.

When I get there, I decide to call my boyfriend back home. Maybe he  
can look online at a map. He does this and tells me there is a road  
to Cabazon right where I am. I am thinking he is nuts because I  
already walked down the road and it doesn't go to Cabazon.

It's getting late so I start to worry where am I going to go? Then I  
realize the magic of living on the trail. I'm already home. All I  
have to do is set up my tent and I'm safe and home.

Just then the cab finally arrives and I get a hair-raising Mr. Toad's  
wild ride at 90 miles an hour on the freeway to the casino. When we  
arrive at the casino I get out of the car and smoke is billowing from  
under the hood. I tell the 18 year old kid who drove me he really  
shouldn't drive like that. He begs me not to tell his boss.

I take my stinky, dirty self into the casino where they are nice to  
me and give me a $100 room. It's an opulent palace of a room. I  
shower, wash my clothes in the shower, get room service and use the  
Internet.

The next morning I walk down the road like a homeless person with my  
pack to the outlet mall. I try on all the shoes with my blistered  
feet and my heavy pack. I find a great pair of shoes that last me  
through the Sierra.

With my new shoes I walked to the post office. The road to the post  
office is the road that my boyfriend told me about. I figured this  
out when the guy at the post office who gave me a ride to the trail  
drops me off. The road was on the other side of the tunnel, before I  
would have crossed through the tunnel, not after. It was a long road  
and I'm glad I got a cab ride anyway.

I could have shopped in Cabazon. There was a store. I didn't look  
inside, but it probably would have been a tiny convenience and  
Mexican grocery. You know the type. There was a very large  
convenience store at the Chevron over by the outlet mall, too.

If only I hadn't needed the guide book and new shoes I would have  
skipped this entire stop. But it ended up being a fun story to tell  
on the trail of my harrowing ride to the Casino. And the idea of  
going to a casino while hiking a wilderness adventure is pretty  
funny, too, even though I didn't do any gambling beyond taking that  
cab in the desert.

Sorry so long,
Diane